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<title>Can't shake these midnight thoughts by ohnonotthemagain</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175063">Can't shake these midnight thoughts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnonotthemagain/pseuds/ohnonotthemagain'>ohnonotthemagain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), The Three Caballeros (1944)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Based on a Set It Off Song, Crying, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Dark Magic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, if you know which one you get a gold star, its not /that/ bad but doesnt hurt to tag, not totally satisfied with this but I need to post it before it rots away in my drafts, probably has typos but shhh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:35:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175063</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnonotthemagain/pseuds/ohnonotthemagain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>José remembered what his dad told him about magic. That using too much all at once took its toll. It makes you paranoid, anxious. You interpret things wrong, hear things that aren’t there. He didn’t need to worry. It was just his imagination getting carried away from a magic overdose.</p><p>--</p><p>The aftermath of the Caballeros' first adventure. Emotional turmoil included.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>José Carioca &amp; Donald Duck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Can't shake these midnight thoughts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>José couldn’t sleep. That fact alone worried him. Usually, he’d fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Sometimes before. Yet here he was, at what he figured was around 1 in the morning, tossing and turning under the blankets like a caged animal.</p><p>Last night, he fell asleep fine. Maybe he tired himself out from treasure hunting. Or running from that giant, man-eating serpent. Just thinking about that thing sent shivers down his spine. The anaconda’s horrible hissing. The terrified look on Panchito’s face as it threatened to choke the life out of him.</p><p>His black magic was the only reason they made it out. It was exhausting to use, especially such a powerful spell. But he saved them, and that’s what mattered. His the secret was out now, but José didn’t need to worry about it anymore. Because friends don’t keep secrets. And it was a good thing that Donald and Panchito knew about his darkest secret, while in a foreign country they could easily leave him in, knowing he didn’t have money to get a plane back. Yes. This was perfect.</p><p>Why? Why was he so caught up on it? José always told himself that whenever he’d reveal his magic, Donald and Panchito wouldn’t mind. Because they were his friends, and they wouldn’t hate him over something like that. He didn’t know that for sure, but he was an optimist. At least, he usually was. Ever since he’d gotten back to the hotel, everything felt… <em>different</em>. Every time he heard something in the night, a cricket, creaking floorboards, people in the next room, he felt like hiding under the bed and never coming out again<em>.</em> Whenever Donald and Panchito talked about something, he got chills. They were talking about him. He knew they were. Talking about how their “friend” knew magic, and that he was dangerous. As dangerous as that terrible snake.</p><p>Trying to calm his quivering feathers and racing heart, José remembered what his dad told him about magic. That using too much all at once took its toll. It makes you paranoid, anxious. You interpret things wrong, hear things that aren’t there. He didn’t need to worry. It was all just in his head. Like the sound of someone walking closer to him. It was just his imagination getting carried away from a magic overdose.</p><p>Then something grabbed his shoulder. The only thing that kept José from screaming was his blood running cold.</p><p>  “José? You okay?” Donald. It was just Donald, asking if he was okay. It was fine.</p><p>José didn’t know how to answer, just sat up and moved Donald’s hand off of him.</p><p>“Sorry. Looked like you were having a nightmare.”</p><p>José shifted uncomfortably, still not responding.</p><p>Donald gave his friend a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I get them all the time.”</p><p>José winced at the mention of Donald’s nightmares. Poor duck dealt with life-threatening situations all the time. So often that he didn’t seem phased by nightmares anymore. How many of them involved magic? “You’re not scared of me, are you?” The words spilled out before José could stop himself.</p><p>A few seconds of silence. Paranoia tied José’s stomach in knots.</p><p>Donald frowned, worry plastered on his face. “This is about your magic, isn’t it?”</p><p>“You didn’t answer the question.” It came out more harshly than José meant it to be. “Are you scared of me? Are you scared of me, just like everyone else?”</p><p>“José…” His mind was racing too much to notice the pain in Donald’s voice. Donald lifted himself up onto the bed, heart twisting as he watched José’s eyes water.</p><p>A shaky breath wracked José’s body. “I know you are. I saw your face when I cast the spell.”</p><p>“José.”</p><p>“I don’t blame you if you hate me, Donal’. <em> Se você nunca mais quiser falar- </em>”</p><p>“José!” Donald clasped his hands on José’s shaking shoulders. José flinched and looked up at him, more from shock than anything. Murky orange eyes met unwavering sapphire. “José. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You’re my best friend. Your magic may scare me” - José made a pained whine - “but you know what? I don’t care. I know you’d never use it to hurt me or Panchito.” Blinking tears out of his own eyes, Donald smiled. “Friends don’t hurt friends with black magic.”</p><p>For a moment, José just sat there, letting the words repeat in his head. Donald meant it. Even with dark magic addling his mind, he could tell from the look in his eyes. Friends. They were friends. He sniffled, unable to get words out. Still shaking, he hugged Donald. He held onto him more tightly than he ever had, feeling that if he let go he might fall apart. Donald hugged him back, and Jos- never wanted to let go. They sat there for what felt like forever, José quietly sobbing and Donald whispering comfort. </p><p>José didn’t remember falling asleep, or being tucked in. But when he woke up, Donald’s words still fluttered in his memory.</p>
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